


Timestamp: Handsy

by Amelia_Clark



Series: Good Books, Bad Movies [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Fingering, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Rimming, Shower Sex, because I require verisimilitude in my pornography, realistic refractory periods for dudes in their mid-30s
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-12
Updated: 2014-07-12
Packaged: 2018-02-08 13:42:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1943313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amelia_Clark/pseuds/Amelia_Clark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Though Dean's apartment was hardly luxurious, he did have fantastic water pressure, and Cas thoroughly enjoyed their habit of showering together after sex.</p><p>Pure unadulterated fluffy smut.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Timestamp: Handsy

**Author's Note:**

> So I’ve skipped over post-coital shower scenes three times in the [Good Books, Bad Movies](http://archiveofourown.org/series/69657) ‘verse—largely because I agree with canon Dean that shower sex is complicated and not at all worth it. But this is fiction, where the sex is always incredible and effortlessly hygienic! Hence a timestamp to correct my oversight. Let's say it happens between the end of [Between the Covers](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1214023/chapters/2483374) and the start of [Movie Night](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1751153/chapters/3741857).
> 
> Enjoy, my lovelies. Hope this assuages the angst I inflicted recently. Brace yourselves, cause there's more to come. :/

Though Dean's apartment was hardly luxurious, he did have fantastic water pressure, and Cas thoroughly enjoyed their habit of showering together after sex. Watching Dean’s naked figure as he leaned in to check the water temperature, cliches fluttered through his mind: _like a Greek statue, a bronze god._ He rolled his eyes at his own triteness. Those phrases were too banal, anyway; Dean's beauty was beyond words, a force of nature, and Cas’s breath caught as the lean muscles of his back flexed while he adjusted the faucet. Cas flicked his eyes down to that marvelous ass and wanted to touch—and he could, so he did, reaching out to palm one firm cheek. Dean jumped at the contact, smirked over his shoulder.

"Can't keep your hands off me, huh?" he said. 

"No, never," said Cas, moving closer to slip his arms around Dean's waist, smearing their mingled come on his stomach. He kissed the knob at the top of his spine, and Dean shuddered and sagged back into him. 

“C’mon, I’ve gotta get to work,” said Dean, climbing into the shower and holding the curtain so Cas could slip in beside him. It was just a stall with no tub, wonderfully close quarters for two grown men, and Cas wasted no time backing Dean into the wall, hands skimming down his sides to clutch his ass in both hands while he licked up the rivulet of warm water collecting in the hollow at the base of Dean’s throat. Dean hummed in satisfaction, combing Cas’s wet hair back from his forehead with his fingers. 

“I love how much you want me,” he said shyly. “I just wrap myself up in it.” 

"Mmm, like this?" Cas wound his arms around Dean and crushed him in a bear hug, kissed him passionately. They stood entwined under the cascading water, skin meeting at every point possible—and despite being fresh from orgasm, Cas felt a rush of lust that weakened his knees. "Christ, Dean, you're like a drug." 

Dean grinned. "Like 'your own personal brand of heroin'?" 

Cas groaned and shoved him gently; Dean sputtered as the shower caught him full in the face. "Do _not_ quote _Twilight_ to me when you're naked." 

"You sure? It's a love story for the ages, Cas. Don't we have an epic, tragic bond _just like them?"_

Moving as far away from Dean as he could in the cramped space (which was less than a foot), Cas folded his arms and feigned a scowl. "You want me to get handsy or not?" 

“Sorry, sorry, I won’t do it again,” said Dean, stepping closer and brushing his hand through the stiff curls at the base of Cas’s softened cock. He leaned back to grab the soap. 

This was the part where they could never hold back their laughter, sudsing each other up with grand sweeping gestures, passing the soap between them as their hands roamed each other’s bodies. Dean turned them so Cas was under the spray and rinsed him off, crouching gradually to chase the water running down his skin with his mouth; he licked Cas's neck, his collarbones, he bit at the rings through his nipples, he sipped the tiny puddle in the divot of his navel. He slurped at his cock, curled still between his legs, and Cas laughed, tugging at Dean's hair to make him look up. "You know nothing's going to happen down there, right? I came maybe fifteen minutes ago." 

"I know," said Dean with a shrug. "I just like tasting you. And it still feels kinda good, right?" 

"Of course. And God knows, I like seeing you on your knees. Come on, your turn." Cas helped him up and spun them, fitting their mouths together beneath the water. 

Cas’s hand lingered in the cleft of Dean’s ass, teasing at the rim; he hadn’t been inside Dean yet today, and couldn’t resist slipping a soapy finger into his heat. Dean grunted and pushed back, asking for more, and Cas added another, zeroing in on his prostate. With a little whimper, Dean hitched one leg up by Cas’s hip—and then slipped. Cas’s grip tightened reflexively to catch him, and Dean hissed at the sudden jab and threw his head back, cracking it on the tiles. _“Owwww,”_ he whined. 

“Shit, sorry, beautiful. Are you OK?” 

“Ugh. My ass’ll be fine. My head, not so much.” Dean poked gingerly at the bump. 

“Aww, you want me to kiss it?” 

“Yes please.” He turned his back to Cas and pointed at the sore spot, bending down a little so he could reach it; Cas pecked at Dean’s wet hair, kept going to kiss down the back of his neck and rest his forehead against his warm skin. 

“Let me wash your hair while I’m here,” he murmured, grabbing the shampoo. He worked the lather through Dean’s short hair, then rinsed it, one hand protecting his eyes from the suds as they sluiced down. Attending to his own hair quickly, he clutched Dean’s waist and got down on his knees, nosed between his cheeks. 

“Mmmf, yeah,” muttered Dean as Cas licked into him. He braced his hands on the shower wall and pushed back into Cas’s tongue, circling his hips slightly. Cas got a firmer grip on his ass to spread it further, narrowing his tongue to a point and thrusting, and Dean let out a keening groan. “Fuck, you’re good at that.” 

Cas said “thank you” without removing his mouth, the sense lost in Dean’s flesh—but he knew Dean felt the sound, because he cried out and slapped the wall, the impact echoing wetly. “Oh God,” he said, “oh God, Cas, I love that. I—I was never really into it before, but your tongue’s just—fuck, you’re so good, I don’t want you to stop.” 

Fumbling for the soap, Cas got his hand involved, wiggled a finger into Dean while he pressed up into his perineum with his thumb. Dean slapped the wall again, dropped his forehead into it with a soft thunk. “Fuck, Cas, I don’t want you to stop but now it’s just torture, cause I just want you to fuck me right now, so so bad.” 

Cas pulled away and got to his feet, wiping his mouth. “Fair enough. Besides, you have work. We'll just have pick it up later.” 

Dean didn’t budge from his position slumped against the side of the shower, and Cas reached around him to turn the water off. “Everything OK?” he asked. 

“Yeah,” said Dean. “Yeah, better than OK, just getting my sea legs back.” He held still a few more moments, than straightened, turning to give Cas a gentle kiss. “Thanks. A++, would grope again. Grab me a towel, wouldja?” 


End file.
